


Helping Hand

by hushitisme



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gen, cute stuff i guess, miller is anger, ocelot doesn't care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hushitisme/pseuds/hushitisme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skype RP Shenanigans with marinkarin. We sometimes do cute stuff. I don't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Hand

"You don't have to do that." Kaz says, "I can do it myself." He rambles on and on every day, and not once has he been able to do a damn thing himself. He's sure Ocelot gets tired of hearing the refusals, maybe even manages to hide a sigh from the damaged man when they start, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders why Ocelot doesn't quit trying to help him. Kaz has never wanted it. Never will. 

It's not that he truly cares about lending a helping hand--if he did, he would have found a way to broach the subject as delicately as possible. Nor is it that he finds himself particularly pitying the other man. There's something about the man's entire appearance is just a little bit off, something that sets him on edge. And so finally, tired of the obstinate refusal to ask for help, Ocelot took matters into his own hands, quite literally so.

Without asking, he stepped up to the other man, straightening out his tie so that he could knot it himself. Out of respect, he decided not to comment on the rest of the man's appearance, feeling that there was really no point in kicking him while he was down. Sure, they found themselves at odds most of the time, and Ocelot could hardly say he genuinely liked Miller, but he didn't detest him. The man had gone through a lot, and like it or not, he was integral to Mother Base.

"You lost an arm, Miller. No one here is gonna think any less of you for struggling with your tie. Stop being so stubborn."

The man had opened his mouth to answer, but it was hard to argue against something that was undeniably true. No one would think any less, for sure. However, Kaz's pride wasn't one to listen to reason when wounded. He knew he looked downright messy from his head to his toes with his hair looking as if blond locks hadn't seen a brush in days and clothes noticeably wrinkled. So very unprofessional in every sense of the word--even his anger.

He pushed Ocelot with his hand once the tie was straightened, grunting when it did nothing but made him look like a child. And as if his mouth couldn't remain closed any longer, lips parted again to speak.

"I'm being stubborn?" He questioned; sharp tongued and every bit as bitter as the day before when his boots had been the victim to Ocelot's charity. "You're one to talk, you know that? I said no and you keep doing whatever the hell you like. You're the damn stubborn mule here, not me."

The man's anger came as no surprise, but Ocelot was ready to handle his little temper tantrums. Mediating tensions between recruits was something he was surprisingly good with, and handling a single, bratty officer was entirely manageable. Normally in such a situation, Ocelot would have questioned Miller, taken a tone with him in order to ask if he needed a nap since he was being so fussy. But this wasn't about humiliating him; he just wanted to make the man presentable.

The moment he felt Miller's hand push against him, Ocelot reached up to grab him by the wrist, holding him in place with little effort. If he wanted to make the situation a teaching lesson, it would only have been too easy, and he was sure that they both knew what he was fully capable of. For a moment he even seemed to consider it, regarding the blond in silence until he finally released him in favor of straightening out his collar instead.

"Well then I guess we're equally matched. So are you planning on whining until I finally give up, or would you rather just let me do this? I've got plenty of time, I don't mind wasting it on you."

Fingers curled in towards the palm of his hand when his wrist was caught. Achy and strained, his knuckles turned white from how tight his hand was balled up. The man had the nerve to fix his tie and now that? 

Kaz gritted his teeth until Ocelot let go, letting him ramble on without a further touch.

When the other man was finished speaking, Kaz, again, had felt himself growing quiet. This time he stayed that way. He gave a shrug as a reply. He'll give in, just this once, if it meant getting the Russian to leave him alone. A huff stole its way from his body, shoulders briefly scrunching up from the breathy action before relaxing a moment after.

Idly, the Commander sat in his anger while his wrist burned with a touch he wish would leave as well as the other man's words . If his heart skipped a beat and Ocelot noticed how his face grew mildly flushed he would deny it.

"Don't tell me I'm gettin' the silent treatment now? 'Least you're more cooperative this way. I keep telling you that you ought to just let the bionics specialist make an arm for you, but since you refuse, this is your only other option. Can't have you running around Mother Base looking like you just rolled out of bed. People actually do look up to you, you know."

Losing the use of just one limb had to be terrible, but to lose two of them--and at the same time? It was hardly surprising that Miller wanted to try and prove himself, but there was just no need for it. There was no reason to get so angry over it either, especially when Ocelot's intentions were pure. Helping him get dressed was hardly a problem, a necessary evil he would be happy to oblige. 

Once Ocelot was satisfied with both the collar and the tie, he took a small step back as though to get a better look. There were more wrinkles than he could smooth out, and he doubted he could manage an attempt without sustaining injury. Better not try.

"--Take your hat off. Let me see that hair of yours. Doesn't look like you've been taking care of it, either. Am I gonna have to bathe you next?"

The Beret comes off like requested, like Kaz couldn't care anymore. The only thing to suggest he still did was how he avoided looking at Ocelot dead-on. His scowl deepened with every verbal jab thrown at him. 

"As if I would let you." 

It was funny, endearing even, that the gunslinger would consider going as far as giving him a bath to make sure he was presentable. Luckily enough for them both Kaz had managed to do that all on his own. All the same, the blush on his cheeks worsened at the thought of what if he hadn't done it to Ocelot's liking. A dangerous thought to like, much less have.

"Are you almost done fussing over my appearance yet? I'm getting tired of just sitting here."

Gloved fingers slid through the other's messy locks as though it were nothing uncommon, a would-be friendly action if the two of them weren't consistently butting heads. He would have to remind himself to keep a comb around for occasions like this, which would likely be far less demeaning. But given the color spreading across Miller's face, Ocelot had to wonder if it was truly embarrassment, or something else entirely.

"I'd sooner throw water on you than give you a bath, I hope you know. I'm willing to help you get dressed, but I've got to draw the line somewhere. You need to take better care of yourself though, even if you're managing quite a lot on your own. You're setting a bad example; your men see you like this. The Boss sees you like this."

Maybe it was a little bit of a low blow, but if Miller cared about any one thing, it was that man. A part of Ocelot truly appreciated that, and yet another part of him felt almost jealous. Even if he told himself he had nothing to worry about, he couldn't shake the feeling, and often times he wondered if that was where his indifference for Miller came from. 

"There. You at least look like a decent human being again, even if your face is bright red."

And like it was predicted, Kaz immediately denied how red his face truly was, but despite all the denial spewing from the commander, his cheeks had only managed to grow brighter. Warm, Kaz’s face burned with shame and definitely something more. 

“Fuck off. Snake rarely comes around and you know it. He hasn’t seen me once like this. It’s just--” You. He wanted to say. Only Ocelot got to see him this bad. The sentence fell short, however, at the realization of blurting out something as embarrassing as that. And, once again, Ocelot was right. 

In all intents and purposes Miller had to think a little more about his appearance. The men under his command needed a commander who looked the part, not just bark out orders. He swallowed, spit thick and bitter going down his throat from all the truth he wish he could ignore coming from the other man. 

Beyond frustrated, Kaz grabbed for his beret, putting it back on his head. Even _that_ had been done sloppily, though. He took a second to calm down before going, “don’t say a damn word” and “just do it” as if to say go ahead and fix my mistake.

If only things had merely stayed that way.


End file.
